


Sentiment

by Write_like_an_American



Series: Gotg Prompt Fic [8]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, i wish i was sorry, literally just porn, rated 'm' for 'mmmmmm', tumblr prompt-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_like_an_American/pseuds/Write_like_an_American
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt = Kragdu, Sentiment, M-rating</p><p>"I like you, sir," Kraglin says. "A lot."</p><p> </p><p>Yondu's not sure what he's supposed to do with this information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> **Mmmm I have missed writing porn.**
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> **I don't think I'm going to upload my other porny oneshot, just because it was soooo OOC (for aphrodisiac related reasons), but it's over on my tumblr if you want it (write-like-an-american). Just search 'prompt'!**

The thing about routines is, it’s easy to fall into them and nigh impossible to dig yourself out again. Still, there’s one thing for sure – if you don’t _try_ , you definitely ain’t getting nowhere.

So try Kraglin does. Of course, it goes abysmally.

“What d’you mean, you _kinda like_ me?”

Kraglin twists his chin over his shoulder until his neck pops. He squints at the blue face, glowering from where its owner stoops over his pillow-propped hips.

“Uh, what’s it sound like? And cap’n, if ya wouldn’t mind, think you could keep moving?”

There’s an affirmative grunt. The dick in his ass picks up the pace. A little. Hardly at all, in fact. Kraglin rubs his cheek over the sour-smelling mattress. Sighs noisily. “It really that big a deal?”

“All I’m sayin’ is,” says Yondu, “I’m in the middle of fucking you. Yeah you _kinda like me_ ; don’t it go without saying?”

 _You_ were _in the middle of fucking me. Now you just seem to be sulking while using me as a cock holder._ Kraglin could groan, but settles for a moody buck, in an effort to get more of his body onto Yondu’s. “Forget I said anything, sir,” he says. If he arches his back, will his dick at least bump his - ?

Blunt fingers card the little hairs on the back of his neck, shiny with their mingled sweat. “Whatever,” Yondu dismisses, and pushes his head back down.

________________________________________

Kraglin’s all wire and sinew, skin blotchy with flush. The fuzz on his chest tacks to Yondu’s fingertips as he brushes thumbs over his first mate’s nipples – pink and hard, each ringed with a darkening imprint of teeth – and his muscles are wound tighter than a coiled steel spring. The tension ratchets higher as Yondu’s palms drag down his stomach, following the path laid out by heaving ribs, scrawny abdominals and trickles of dark brown hair. By the time he lifts Kraglin’s cock the man’s practically vibrating.

“Eager, are we?” asks Yondu conversationally. He rubs him slow and firm, thick fingers not quite meeting around the girth. Skin shifts back and forth, ruckling round his fist. Kraglin’s cock is a sweltering rod; when Yondu squeezes he can _feel_ the throb of hot blood beneath the surface.

Kraglin ruts into his cool fist and answers the question with a strangled groan as Yondu cups his balls and rolls them over the heel of his hand.

It’s good. It’s nigh on perfect.

The difference between their body temperatures is starker than ever, what with his M-ship’s internal thermos-system botching and resetting every five minutes. (And _alright_ , perhaps they should’ve fixed that before stripping down. They’d intended to – but it’s kinda hard to concentrate on overseeing repair work when you’ve got your first mate crotch bobbing about like a dashboard toy in turbulence as he wriggles under a dismantled console.)

Kraglin bucks and snaps and growls as Yondu works him higher, sounding more like a pinned animal then a man. When Yondu settles over him, heavy in his lap, and grabs a limp white hand to help him sandwich their dicks together and coat them with slippery pre-cum, Kraglin surges upright. Their torsos smack, and Kraglin grinds sudden and hard enough to almost bounce Yondu off again. He has to grab his shoulders for balance. Kraglin’s long fingers keep their cocks pinned together while Yondu’s knees pinch his waist. One sneaks below to massage Yondu's perineum: a perfect, white hot spearpoint.

A scrape of stubble’s his only warning – then, before Yondu can turn his head, there’s dry lips, questing hungrily for the corner of his mouth.

Kraglin knows better than to try for tongue. Not when the tendon that joins Yondu’s collarbone to his earlobe is standing out like a crane-cable, and his eyebrows are twitching as if he’s not sure whether he ought to whistle. He’s as liable to get a bite as he is reciprocation. But the Hraxian does hold himself there a moment longer than is comfortable. His breath’s hot and moist, prickling over the nerves in Yondu’s lips as their hips rock in slow synchrony.

“I like you, sir,” he says. His chin bumps Yondu’s with every word. “A lot.”

Yondu’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with this information.

He settles for breaking the half-kiss, ducking away when Kraglin attempts to reinitiate, and concentrates on tugging their cocks until blue and red spurt white.

________________________________________

Kraglin wonders if this is an attempt to stop him from blurting out anything else _sentimental._

If it is, he doesn’t mind – not when Yondu’s half-lying on the edge of the bed, chin tipped back and choking on gasps as Kraglin presses wet kisses down his cock. He mouths at soft blue balls, then shoves his captain’s thighs further apart and flutters the tip of his tongue over his ass.

Yondu's more sensitive here than his dick; more sensitive than just about anywhere. Kraglin loves to play with his hole, stretching his captain open to take him, teasing his soft blue innards until he's shuddery and spent. Yondu's stomach tenses under the skin of his pouch. His calves slip on the sheets, feet dangling an inch above the floor; Kraglin, kneeling between them, hoists a leg onto each shoulder so that walls of strong blue muscle box in his head and block out the world. He nibbles his captain’s inner thigh, fangs glancing off the artery.

Yondu twitches. His shin bangs Kraglin’s ear. Then again as Kraglin licks him: one long swipe that softens the clenching navy pucker, then drags under his balls to flatten against the base of his cock.

“Good?” he asks. Tastes salt, as his lips crest the blunt tip.

Yondu’s laugh is a chesty rattle. When he speaks it’s all rasp and vibration – “Geddon with it, wouldya? Fuckin’ tease.”

Kraglin smirks at him from under the jutting blue dick, and snaps a salute. “Sir, yes sir. And sir?”

A red eye cracks. “Yeah?”

“I really do like ya.”

Yondu hums, contemplative. Then settles his hand on the back of Kraglin’s skull, gripping the sweat-straggled Mohawk, and eases his mouth down to where he’d rather have it.

________________________________________

Routines ain’t set in stone. More in crumbling cement. They might be damn hard to break - but they are malleable, if you only have the will to make them bend. Takes some perseverance. But you’ll get there in the end.

“I like you, cap’n,” Kraglin mumbles against Yondu’s implant. The bed’s thoroughly messed. There’s a sticky duvet piled in the corner, and Yondu’s pillow is sporting a new gash – hence why he’s assimilated Kraglin’s chest for the purpose. They’re both on their sides, Kraglin on his left and Yondu on his right. Without any sheets to cover them, the line of their meeting skin is rapidly approaching clammy as the ceiling fan clanks through its rusty revolutions. But Kraglin doesn’t care. Especially when Yondu bonks the hard wedge of plastic against the underside of his jaw (gently, for once) and mutters something that might have been: “Kinda like you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> **> :D**
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> **Not the most imaginative fill I've ever written, but definitely one of the most enjoyable. Hurm hurm hurm**


End file.
